


Comfortable Brother

by Ephemera_pop (Alex_Draven)



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-30
Updated: 2006-05-30
Packaged: 2018-10-16 23:05:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10581348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alex_Draven/pseuds/Ephemera_pop
Summary: Justin tips his chin up, and the soft buzz of his hair rubs over Lance's throat, and Lance's arm just fits like this, wrapped over a shoulder and around his chest. Fits like they were meant to be, like they always have been. Lance brushes the back of his thumb down, over Justin's Adam's apple, hooking it in to the neck of Justin's professionally faded t-shirt. He can feel Justin breathing, feels the muscles work as Justin takes another sip from the sticky glass they've been sharing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the [Lambs Day 2006 Southern Comfort Challenge](http://www.hazyphase.net/lambs/2006.html)  
>  With thanks to beta-team-alpha for all that they do for me, and the caveat that all remaining mistakes are my own sweet fault.

__**Comfortable Brother**  
1 part Southern Comfort, 1 part Frangelico. Pour into an old-fashioned glass. Stir briefly, and serve.

Justin tips his chin up, and the soft buzz of his hair rubs over Lance's throat, and Lance's arm just fits like this, wrapped over a shoulder and around his chest. Fits like they were meant to be, like they always have been. Lance brushes the back of his thumb down, over Justin's Adam's apple, hooking it in to the neck of Justin's professionally faded t-shirt. He can feel Justin breathing, feels the muscles work as Justin takes another sip from the sticky glass they've been sharing. 

Sprawled like this on a bank of cushions and throws and quilts, Lance is taller than J, and Justin's upper body is heavy, J finally allowing Lance to take a turn as the one who supports and comforts. It's taken long enough that Lance's head is almost as dizzy with the sense of homecoming as it is with the sweet alcohol they've been passing between them.

The tendon at the front of Justin's neck presses up against Lance's thumb and the scuff of hair is replaced by the scuff of stubble, the warmth of soft lips and the burst of hazelnut and sugar against his tongue, carried on Justin's breath. Lance's tongue teases slowly at the fullness of Justin's lower lip, and then he rolls his head to accept the drink Justin is offering over his shoulder, lets Justin tilt the golden syrup against Lance's waiting mouth, and with his eyes closed all Lance can think of is absolution, blessing and forgiveness with a mouthful of love and sacrifice. Lance swallows, and draws his sticky tongue along Justin's thumb, the joints, the cool nail, and Justin draws them down so that nail gives way to skin and lips, and Lance has to pull back to breathe in before he drowns.

J takes the hint, shifting his weight, letting his head drop, and Lance can't tell from the lashes on Justin's flushed cheek if Justin's eyes are closed, or if he's watching his own hand stroking Lance's thigh, fingers tracing the lines of muscle through the denim, then nails scratching back up to stroke down again. The rain on the roof is muffled but audible, up here in the roof-space den that only six, maybe seven, people know about. Loud enough to be relaxing, quiet enough that they can hear each other breathing, hear Justin's nails on Lance's jeans, hear the small sounds Justin makes as he stretches, and then relaxes back against Lance, lets his arms drop, just circling one finger above Lance's kneecap. They've talked plenty, but this silence is what they both need.

Lance squeezes slightly with the arm he has slung across Justin's chest, and when he allows his own arm to go limp, he finds himself sweeping his fingers up and down across Justin's ribs and waist - warm, soft cotton and firm flesh – keeping time with the pattern of Justin's movements on his leg. The rise of Justin's chest makes Lance aware of his back pressing into Lance's chest as something more than just a warm, welcome, weight. They're breathing in time.

*****


End file.
